Date: Tue, 17 Aug 2004 09:33:18 -0700 (PDT) From: Lance Kyle Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 10 This story contains graphic but completely fictional depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and then. If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away. Seaward Plantation War clouds chapter ten From day to day, the people of Seaward felt as if a screw were slowly being turned upon them, tightening the pressure. At any moment they expected the return of Robert Ashley, perhaps in force, or a landing of bounty hunters. Their resolve was strong, their nerves steady, but they felt themselves to be in a war zone although nobody had fired upon them as yet. Mail continued to come, albeit more sporadically now, in and out of Charleston, but the irregularity had to do with the movement of armies and governments far removed from the island. It was the passage of one of those mail boats that first broke the tension. At the end of the third week of July, Troy and Hector had taken the Hesperus out to meet the mail boat as usual. Watch was kept on the pier and at the cemetery of course, and the rest of the people were hard at work. Appleby, working in the chicken coop, caught a faint, vaguely familiar sound. Stepping outside, his whole body stiffened. It was the sound of gunfire, not rapid but perhaps one shot every minute. It was more distant than the pier, although it came from that direction. Looking around, he saw other people stepping out of buildings or putting down tools to listen. "Master, that's not a warning from the pier, is it?" asked Priam, nearby. "No...I don't know what it means. Could it be.... could it be from the Hesperus? Did Troy and Hector encounter trouble?" Worried looks darted all around, and then with one accord the mass of people began moving toward the pier. "To stations!" cried Priam, as they ran. Arriving at the pier, they found Pan in a state of consternation, looking seaward. Turning to his friends, as Appleby and Priam led the pack up the pier, he said, "It's the Hesperus, I think....firing shots every now and then. But they are moving away from the mail boat and toward us, and I don't see any reason for distress. Yet, there are those shots." Another one broke the air now, clearly coming from the sailboat that was approaching rapidly before a stiff breeze. "Should I have rung the bell?" asked Pan. "No, I think you did the right thing," said Appleby. "Let us see what it is. I think maybe just you and Bacchus might load some shotguns and be in the cabin of the Harmony in case of trouble," he added. Closer and closer the boat came, then it was within hailing distance. Troy's voice, faint but clear, could be heard: "Get Portia! Get Master Mark!" Portia came pushing up past her friends at that to clutch at Appleby's arm. The two of them looked at each other--what could such a summons mean if not some news of Marcus? Appleby snapped a spyglass to his eye, as did Priam. "Do you see anything? Is it Marcus, is he there?" asked Portia. "No," replied Appleby, and Priam seconded that opinion. The mystery deepened, then, and the Hesperus came closer and closer to the pier. Just feet away from the pier, many hands reached out to catch ropes and secure it to the pier; but before it even stopped moving, Troy leaped from the boat onto the pier, thrusting forward a grey rectangle. Portia, shaking by now, whispered "Take it, open it" to Appleby. He did so. It was a letter, folded and sealed, originally on white paper but grubby with wear. The address read, "My Family, Seaward Plantation, off the coast of Charleston, South Carolina." It was written in a hand that, while not childish, seemed not quite adult either. With shaking fingers, Appleby broke the seal and opened it up. He looked at the very end and cried out, "It is from Marcus." Gasps and cries went up from the group, while Helen and Athena crowded in to support Portia on both sides. "Read it, read it, I cannot," she said, weeping, nearly in a state of collapse. Appleby nodded and began, but in a shaky voice. "It is dated June the first....Dear me, how long it took to get here. Alright: Dear Seaward family, and especially Mama and Papa Mark." His voice broke, and he required a moment to compose himself. "I am fine. To tell you right away what I am doing, I am in the army! I am a drummer boy for the First Massachusetts regiment! I am in the Federal army! I am safe and am fine." "In the army!" gasped Portia. "Safe and fine, and he is in the army?!" Appleby continued. "I am sorry that I left like I did, especially because I thought I would be with Papa Bundit, but I could not find him when I got off of the Hesperus. I looked for him, but he wasn't anywhere. So then I looked for a ship and found one that was going north. It was British, so I didn't think they would try to make me a slave. They teased me about being alone, and so young, but I made up a story and paid for a cheap passage below the decks. It was not too bad. I took it to New York and got off. That is a big city! In the railroad station I found lots of men in uniform who were going to war. They were from lots of different states. But one was called the 'First Massachusetts' and I remembered that is where Papa Mark is from, so I asked if I could join it. They said I could, and they taught me how to play the drums and gave me a uniform. I use the drums to tell the men when they should fight, when they should quit, how to march, and that kind of thing. Colonel Richardson is our commander, over lots of other regiments, too "I am treated well. I am writing this in Virginia, just outside of the city of Washington. We have not had a battle yet, but everyone says there will be a big battle and the rebels will get beat and then everyone will come home. Everyone is surprised that I can read and write. I write some letters for some of the men. I am making lots of new friends. "The food is alright, but not really good, not like we have on Seaward. I hope this letter gets to you, they said it might take a long time especially because it has to go across the rebel lines. I am afraid that I have made you worry, and I am sorry. I am fine. Give everyone my love. Love, Marcus." A silence filled the air, and then Appleby and Portia embraced tightly, both sobbing in relief but also caught up in a new set of worries that had taken the place of the older troubles. The air buzzed with discussions of the news, and whether it was good or bad tidings. The boys looked as if they themselves would like nothing better than to be off in the army, while the girls looked worried. Priam suggested that everyone return to their work, so the company drifted back up toward the buildings and fields. Appleby and Portia walked back together, talking, trying to console each other. Reaching the main house Appleby settled on the verandah to look through the rest of the mail. Troy had also retrieved the mail coming out from Charleston; he usually waited for both vessels to pass. Both ingoing and outbound bundles were sparse, but among the messages from town was a cordial note penned by the colonel in charge announcing a meeting of the Militia on the first Friday of August, about two weeks distant. So Robert's news was confirmed. Appleby was of contrary thoughts as to the matter of attending, but decided to put off the decision until later. Sorting the letters and newspapers into piles for later work, he returned to the chicken coop. Throughout the rest of the day, his thoughts as well as those of everyone else on Seaward were of the remarkable news from Marcus. It would bring extra poignancy to the coverage of the war in the newspapers that they still received, although those were often weeks late. As was increasingly the case, most of the people of Seaward worked into the evening. Appleby worked in the study by lamplight until late, at one point writing a letter with Portia that they would try to send to Marcus, although with little hope that it might actually get through. When Portia left, Appleby decided he would take a bath before retiring as he was feeling rather grimy from the day's activities. He pumped a full tub of water, heating enough of it on the bath room stove to make it comfortable, and was just settling in when he heard footsteps in the hallway. The door opened and there stood Samuel with a towel in his hand, clad only in trousers. "Oh, Master Mark! I'se sorry.... I am sorry," he said, correcting himself. Appleby smiled to see that the community's "lessons" in proper speech, along with reading and writing, were beginning to take effect with the new arrivals from Ashley. "I'll come back later," he said. Appleby smiled at him, and a series of images flashed quickly through his mind. When they first met, at the slave market, and Appleby had fondled the ten year old boy....he had never discussed that with Samuel and, for all he knew, the young man did not now remember it--various experiences at the Ashley Plantation involving Samuel, or watching Samuel, in one or another of Robert's extravagant tableaux. Appleby looked at the skinny chocolate brown body, muscular but thin, and a twitch of both desire and affection moved in him. "No, Samuel, it's alright. I just got in. Would you....would you like to join me? There is room." Samuel grinned, his eyes now traveling down Appleby's naked torso, the lower parts distorted by water and suds. "Alright, master, yes, I'd like that," he said. Laying the towel aside, he dropped his trousers--it was all he wore--and stepped up to the tub. Stepping over the edge and into the water, Appleby could see the wrinkled, oily black ballsack beneath the hanging, curved dark brown penis which was just beginning to swell. Samuel slid down gracefully with his back to Appleby, sitting between the white man's bent legs. "Let me wash your back," said Appleby, and soaping his hands well he began scrubbing and kneading the hard but thin muscles, the rolling shoulder muscles and broad, low hills of the back. Down below the surface of the water he slid, scrubbing with his fingers at the top of his hips. Water made Samuel's chocolate skin shine in the lamplight, sheets and rivulets of water visible as they rolled down the sleek, smooth brown. Soaping his fingers again, Appleby lathered up Samuel's neck and ears, then worked suds into the crisp cap of black hair. Rinsing this off, he whispered "Lean back" into Samuel's ear. Now reaching around in front, Appleby lathered suds across the thin, smooth, hard planes of his chest, tweaking the nipples, and down below the water line across the hard tube of his abdomen. His fingers slid into the small patch of crinkly pubic hair, then he reached down around the base of the shaft to gently caress the scrotum, now drawn up tight. His hands slid up again and grasped the rigid shaft, now fully erect. Samuel sighed and laid his head back against Appleby's neck and cheek, pushing himself back into the white man's torso, riding up on Appleby's penis that lay on the bottom of the tub beneath the firm bottom of the black man. Appleby slowly ran his fist up and down the shaft, squeezing and bending the dickhead at the top of each cycle. Groaning with pleasure, Samuel suddenly pulled himself up a bit out of the bath, and reached around behind and below him. Grasping Appleby's rigid cock, he held it to his own anus, then lowered himself on it. He moaned with both pleasure and pain as he impaled himself fully, then waited a moment for it to pass. Now Samuel began to bob up and down, supporting himself with his arms on the side of the tub, as Appleby continued to masturbate the black rod with his hand. In rhythm the two moved as one. Breathing became heavier as both men labored together. Then with a gasp, Samuel threw his head back against Appleby's neck and moaned, crying out "O! yes, O! Master!" as ropes of semen oozed out of his penis beneath the water. The tightening of his butt muscles as he squeezed the white fluid out put an irresistible pressure on Appleby's own organ. He could hold back no longer and pushed forward, shooting his own sperm into Samuel's waiting rectum while, with his free hand, he pulled the black man's torso back into his own. The two sat like that, breathing heavily for a few moments, then Appleby removed his hand from the wilting black shaft and hugged Samuel tightly. "Thank you, master," he whispered. A few more minutes of cuddling passed, and then Samuel slowly rose, pulling up off of Appleby. The white man gave his own penis another good scrub with the soap, then rose and joined him. Smiles and appraising looks passed between the two as they dried off and the tub drained. "Samuel," said Appleby, "would you like to spend the night with me?" Aaron and Hammond had gotten into the happy cycle of sleeping where the moment's inclinations dictated, and so far as he knew Appleby had no other bed partner for the evening. Samuel nodded happily and, freshly scrubbed, the two walked up the stairs to bed. Everyday living under a war cloud took a somewhat different tone with the letter from Marcus. Newspapers were carefully scrutinized for news of the war, especially for any mention of the First Massachusetts regiment. The lag of time between the publication of a newspaper or the mailing of a letter and their arrival on Seaward became more of an irritation before. The island now had a stake in the distant war as well as the one close at hand. As the first Friday in August approached, Appleby could not decide what to do about the announced meeting of the Militia. The Wednesday before, he brought the subject up once again as most of the people of Seaward were relaxing on the verandah in the evening. "I wonder whether I can refuse an invitation from the colonel," he said. "If it came from Robert I wouldn't care a bit, but as long as I am 'military' and as long as some of the protection for Seaward is its standing as a fortification of South Carolina, aren't I obliged to go?" he asked. "What if it's a trick, master?" asked Helen. "Are you sure the letter came from the colonel?" "I'm pretty sure it did. Is there a way to go with more caution, I wonder? Perhaps to keep a pistol under my belt and to make sure that the boat has a good stock of arms?" Appleby wondered. "I don't know, master, I just have a bad feeling about this," Helen replied. She looked at Athena, who only shook her head and muttered "I can't tell." "Maybe you could find a berth not on the usual pier and slip into town unnoticed, then see what the lay of the land is," suggested Hector. Appleby thought about that for a moment. "I think you are right, Hector, good idea. We can use stealth. I think I may also write my attorney, Horatio Smith, and ask him to be at the meeting hall just in case. Troy, can you take a letter out to the mail boat tomorrow?" With Troy's agreement, plans were made. Appleby would go to the meeting, but not without some trepidation. That Friday morning dawned, and Troy and Priam met Appleby at the Hesperus. Each had a revolver concealed beneath a jacket, and carbines and shotguns were hidden in the cabin. They agreed that only Appleby would venture ashore this time. There was less and less a supply of staples in town as the war and hoarding took its toll. At any rate, there was a need to guard the Hesperus. Contingency plans were laid out with a strict timetable. If Appleby had not returned by four o'clock in the afternoon, they were to assume the worst and were to contact Horatio Smith to intervene. Appleby wrote them a letter to give to the attorney in that event, even though Smith had been asked to attend the meeting. The Hesperus put off, sailing into a southwest breeze, and tacked its way to the entrance to the harbor. There was still a fair bit of shipping coming and going; was the Federal government ever going to send a navy to interdict this traffic, Appleby wondered. Clearly it constituted an economic artery for the South, but no Union warships had yet appeared on the waters of the harbor. What preparations had his friends in the North made, he wondered, and had Uncle Gideon....but he put those thoughts aside for a later day. They slipped past shore batteries and the brooding mass of Fort Sumter, now claimed for South Carolina. Sliding past the usual pier, the Hesperus found another berth and docked near the very end of a long pier. Back on Seaward, Helen, Athena, Bundit, and Hammond worked with the children in the vegetable patches. "I wish they hadn't gone," Helen muttered, to herself as much as to anybody else. "It is a frightening prospect to go into Charleston at this time, I agree," said Bundit, "but I think Master Mark had few options. I wonder if he will run into Robert Ashley again. I know that my blood froze when I saw him on the deck of the Swan from the cemetery, surveying us with his own spyglass." Everyone nodded agreement and continued working for a moment. Suddenly Helen stood up and dropped her hoe. "Bundit....you saw Robert Ashley from the cemetery? How?" "Through my spyglass. He was on the Swan." "And he had a spyglass?" "Yes." "Who else saw him?" "I did," said Hammond, "Master Mark and I ran up there right away." "Well," said Helen, "if you both saw Ashley clearly, then.... how do we know he didn't see you two? And if he saw you two, especially Hammond, then he has firm evidence to arrest Master Mark. He couldn't do it by himself when he was here, and perhaps he did not want to risk trying to land in force against our cannon, but....I don't like this, not one bit." The four stopped their work and looked at each other in consternation. "We must call the others and talk this over," said Athena. They left their work immediately and gathered the remaining adults, except for Cassius who was on watch at the cemetery and Bacchus who was on watch at the pier. They turned the matter over, looking at it every way they could. "Should we take the Harmony into Charleston?" asked Samuel. "The Harmony can't take on the forts and batteries of Charleston," said Cass. Juno agreed, adding, "They have been gone two hours by now. If someone is to arrest Master Mark, they would likely be doing it about now. What can we do?" Hector looked darkly around the group. "The best way we can help is to be ready to repel an enemy IF there is trouble and IF the Hesperus can get away from it. Otherwise, that is right, we can do no good sailing into the harbor and presenting a second boat to be captured. We need to let the lookouts know to be on the watch for trouble, and then....I think we need to have some crews down by the cannon until the Hesperus returns." This plan was discussed and approved. Messengers were sent to Cassius at the cemetery lookout, while the rest of the group put themselves into the order of battle planned upon for an assault on the pier. Everyone had a place, not the least the pregnant women, four months along now and just beginning to show. There were grim faces as shot and powder were prepared next to the cannon. They settled down and waited, fear and anxiety barely kept at bay by the peacefulness of the August morning. Appleby stepped onto the pier, looking down its length. Nothing seemed untoward. Nodding at Troy and Priam, he looked toward the shore. For their parts, Troy and Priam lounged around the Hesperus looking nonchalant and without purpose--but a loaded shotgun and carbine each were within a second of picking up. It seemed like an ordinary summer day, people coming and going, barrows being pushed up and down the pier, barrels stacked here and there. Buttoning his jacket over the revolver tucked into his belt, Appleby began walking toward the shore. Reaching the boardwalk that ran perpendicular to the piers, Appleby turned, intending to follow that up the street toward the center of the city where the meeting hall stood. He walked several yards and heard an urgent whisper. "Masta! Masta Mark Appleby, suh!" Appleby stopped dead in his tracks and looked around. On the inland side of the boardwalk, sitting down low among some stacked crates, was Rodney, Robert Ashley's slave, with a large straw hat on. Rodney's head was up just enough so that Appleby could see his eyes, which darted left and right. He whispered again. "Doan' go any mo', masta, they gonna 'rest you!" "They....what? Who, Rodney, who is going to arrest me?" Appleby was alarmed now. "Shhh! masta! down theah by the pier you useta stop at...dem soljuhs, dey gonna rest you! Ah cain't say no mo' masta, but RUN!" Rodney dropped his head, the hat coming down over his face, and seemed to melt back into the space in his immobility. The air throbbed like a big, slow heart. Appleby looked down the pier and saw a small company of soldiers in uniform clustered at the head of the pier where he usually berthed the Hesperus. He caught his breath--could it be true? Could they possibly be there for him? Then a passing porter pushed a wheelbarrow out of the way, revealing the back of a fancy dress naval uniform--Robert Ashley! Slowly, Ashley turned, stamping his foot impatiently, surveying the scene, looking to the side--and from yards away, their eyes met. "There he is!" cried Robert, pulling out a sword and pointing it dramatically at Appleby. "Halt, sir! You are under arrest! After him!" The soldiers swarmed around picking up weapons, bumping into each other and Ashley for a second or two and then--down the boardwalk they came. Stunned, Appleby finally came to his senses, turned, and ran for his life. Coming to the pier he turned again and paused to assess the situation. The company of soldiers was now well formed and charging him, rifles in hand. "Fire!" he heard Robert say, and was turning to run again when the foremost soldier stopped, took aim--and then put his rifle down. It was Silas Hornsby. "No!" Silas cried, a look of horror on his face to see who his quarry was. "Fire!" screamed Robert, coming up behind the company. Appleby locked eyes with Silas, unable to move for a long moment. The world went into slow motion, and even the rest of the company halted to give Silas his best chance at a shot. Then Silas lifted the rifle, cocked the hammer, aimed- -and lifted the barrel an inch higher and fired. "Dang, sir, I missed!" he cried. Fear warred with gratitude in Appleby's mind, but the sound of the shot broke his paralysis and he began running pell mell down the pier with the company of soldiers some yards behind him. A tremendous commotion began on the pier, as people dove out of the way, scattering at the sound of the shot and the sight of running men. Down the length of the pier went Appleby, with the company close behind him. Far ahead at the very end he could see that Troy and Priam had already been alerted by the sound and were untying the Hesperus as quickly as they could. Looking over his shoulder, Appleby could see that, although he was outrunning the company, they would likely catch him before the Hesperus could get under way, and would certainly be within rifle range. Looking desperately as he ran, he paused to turn a barrel onto its side and pushed it, rolling it back down the pier like a bowling ball. Running a few more yards he stopped for a moment to pull down a tower of crates, then another one. They were diversions that paid off. Reaching the end of the pier he saw that Troy had already pushed the Hesperus off, carefully calculating Appleby's distance and speed. A tremendous leap across an eight foot span and Appleby landed against the side of the hull, his legs dangling over water, his torso hanging down over the deck. Priam pulled him over onto the deck where he lay for a moment trying to breathe, the wind knocked out of him by his collision with the hull. He did not have the luxury to wait long. Gasping, his belly and sides feeling as if they would burst, Appleby crawled up to the low wall around the stern deck. Troy, halfway down into the cabin, tossed him a carbine and sack of cartridges, and brought out a carbine and a shotgun for himself. Priam busied himself forward, opening as much canvas as he could, adjusting the boom to catch the wind. The Hesperus was only a few yards out from the pier when the company of soldiers finally reached the end of it. Rifles came up to shoulders. But Appleby had by then seized the shotgun and fired one barrel. A rain of buckshot swirled toward the company. Two of the rifles fired, but wildly as their sharpshooters fell to the pier to take cover. Appleby discharged the second barrel of the shotgun. By then Troy had reached the tiller, which he held with one hand while with the other he trained the carbine on the soldiers. Appleby prayed that none of these soldiers were Silas, but there was no way to know. Black clouds from the gunfire obscured the view from the stern, then rolled away. Some of the soldiers were down, but whether from wounds or from cowering Appleby could not tell. He seized the carbine and was never more glad that he had ordered the very latest model, able to fire up to ten rounds per minute. The soldiers were still using slow muzzle loaders. While Troy, occupied with steering, fired in the general direction of the end of the pier, Appleby was able to pick his shots more carefully. The effect of a steady beat of shots was devastating, and the company quickly withdrew....but now three men were down on the pier and did not go with them. Some part of Appleby's heart broke, but now all his concentration was focused on making their escape. The Hesperus caught a breeze--thankfully, the southwest wind still held--and began running before the wind, moving away from the piers. Appleby quickly scanned the array of vessels still at berth, and then his heart froze. Men were scurrying over the C.S.S. Saluda and smoke was shooting up in a plume from her stack--Robert had evidently ordered her boilers to be fired up. An armed vessel with a fearsome thirty-two pound cannon was very soon going to be in pursuit, and it was faster than the Hesperus and not dependent on the wind. There was nothing more to be done. Priam had put on every scrap of sail and was monitoring the boom and ropes closely, catching the best angle possible. Troy steered the most direct course he could, looking back over his shoulder. Appleby turned to look at him, then at Priam. "The Saluda," he said. "The armed side-wheeler. They are firing her boilers. They will be after us in a few moments." All three realized what that meant. Now they realized that every yard they could travel would buy them some time, but they also knew that the side-wheeler could quickly make up that distance. Appleby busied himself reloading the shotgun and carbines, making sure there was a good supply of ammunition within easy reach. He piled what equipment he could against and above the stern to make a barrier against small arms fire, although it was laughably inadequate against a thirty-two pound shell. And then there was nothing to do but hope. The Hesperus scudded along past other craft, slipping past ominous but silent shore batteries. Appleby got out a spyglass and scanned the harbor area. His body tensed as he announced, "They are coming. The Saluda is underway." He exchanged looks with Priam and Troy. Priam slipped back from the bow area and bent down to embrace Troy and Appleby. "We will do what we can, but we will not be taken," he said, and his friends agreed. "Save your last shot," he added, and they fully knew what the last shot would be for. In a few minutes the shape of the Saluda could be made out among the other craft, smoke rising from her stack, water spraying from the sidewheel as she churned along at top speed. Closer it came, details becoming clear to the naked eye. With the spyglass, Appleby could make out Robert Ashley, but not Silas; he prayed the latter had been left ashore, as infantry and not a sailor. It was then that Robert's purposes began to be set back by his own fury and flair for the dramatic. Or, perhaps he was trying to get the attention of the shore batteries. Whatever the reason, the Saluda fired her cannon. The report could be heard as a huge plume of water rose up out of the harbor behind them and away off to starboard. Appleby swiveled the spyglass around to see what the reaction would be on the shore batteries, as they had just passed Fort Sumter. He could see movement of soldiers, but they seemed not to be preparing their cannon to fire. And indeed, it would not be clear yet what their target was, since the Saluda was essentially firing recklessly into a harbor full of vessels of all sorts. To the observer suddenly drawn to the scene, it would not be clear that she pursued the one sailboat that was the Hesperus. Turning the glass back on the Saluda, it was also clear to Appleby that every time she fired the ponderous thirty-two pounder on the carousel of her forward deck, it set her progress back a little, for the recoil rocked the ship and swerved her out of her course for a moment. Appleby was then grateful that the Saluda had been converted from commercial purposes and had not originally been intended for such a weapon. The more she fired, the slower she would be....unless she found her mark. On the Hesperus sailed, running before the wind, while the Saluda closed in slowly, yard by yard. The Hesperus approached the pincers of land that separated the harbor from the sea, as another shot sent a huge plume of water up- -this time a little closer. Into the ocean she slipped, and a few minutes later the Saluda followed her. "Look!" Troy said, pointing toward the distant smudge of Seaward. A small plume of smoke was rising from in front of that smudge. Back on Seaward, the tension had grown over the last hour or two. Clustered around the cannon on the pier, the people tried to make light conversation, but it was no use. Then the bubble of tension was burst by two sounds. One was the ringing of the bell from the cemetery ridge--frantic ringing, one might say. Then the ringing stopped. Cassius would soon appear, out of breath from a headlong run, to give them news that by then they had guessed already. For Hector, standing atop the cabin roof of the Harmony, had made out with his spyglass the distant sail of the Hesperus, and had seen a line of smoke behind her as well as columns of water and spray starting up in the ocean close behind the Hesperus, and he knew--whomever had managed to escape from Charleston was being hotly pursued by a steamer. "Arm the cannon!" he declared, relating what he had seen. "Pan, Bacchus, fire up the boilers." They had had the foresight to keep a low fire going in the Harmony, but now the coal was piled on as the steam pressure built to maximum. Cassius arrived then to confirm what they thought they had seen on the shore. As Pan and Bacchus shoveled coal, Cassius and Hector loaded the small twelve-pounder on the carousel of the Harmony's forward deck. They were making ready to put to sea for war. On the Hesperus, Appleby could not yet make out a specific image of events at Seaward, but he and his friends quickly came to the correct conclusion that the Harmony was about to come out to their rescue--or to share their fate. They had no doubt of the heroism of their friends, but that same certainty might mean certain doom. Discussing the matter quickly, Priam proposed a plan. "Look here, we are heading more or less directly toward Seaward," he said, and now a tremendous explosion of water occurred, still behind them and to port, but getting closer. The men hung onto the ropes of the Hesperus as she bucked forward from the shock of the explosion. "If they are sending the Harmony out, they will also arm the shore cannon, which have a longer range than anything on any of these vessels. But the cannon will be much less effective having to shoot over us at the bow end of the Saluda. I suggest we head for the southern tip of Seaward, leading the Saluda that way...then just as we are within range of the shore batteries we turn to port, sailing parallel to shore, and lead the Saluda broadside under the guns of our three cannon. The Harmony will see what we are doing and can pick her own place to join the fight." The plan was instantly agreed to, and the Hesperus changed course a little to starboard, following Priam's suggestion. He returned to the bow to manage the sails, while Troy steered and Appleby did what he could to help. Another explosion erupted in the water, right where they had been a couple of minutes before, before changing course. Appleby now took up his carbine and, although the range was hopeless for any kind of accurate shooting, angled the sights so as to hope that the occasional lead ball would rain down on the Saluda. "What are they doing?" asked Cassius, noting the change in direction of the Hesperus with his spyglass. "They are heading for the southern end of Seaward....why?" Hector thought for a moment. "I...I think they will soon turn and head north. That is what I would do. I think they mean to lead their pursuer broadside before the cannon." Running back down the pier toward the cannon, he informed the crews of his opinion and asked them to be ready to fire should such a possibility occur. Running back to the Harmony, Pan answered his question before he could ask it. "We have a full head of steam up. We are ready to sail." They cast off the Harmony and her screws began to turn, chugging away from the pier, just as the Hesperus could be seen to swerve hard to port and begin to come up to the north, parallel to the Seaward shore. On the Hesperus, the turn was just in time as a blast threw water up quite near to where they had been. Now their situation would be even more desperate, for it took but a moment for the Saluda to detect the change of course. The Saluda then turned, coming down the hypotenuse of the triangle, with the Hesperus running along the base. In other words, the Saluda was now closing even more rapidly than she had before, but was also presenting more of her flank to the shore batteries. Appleby could no longer aim the carbine and simply settled into the stern, helping Troy with the tiller. Closer and closer came the explosions of water from the Saluda's gun even as the Hesperus came closer and closer to the range of fire for the shore batteries on the island. After a hurried discussion, Troy and Appleby decided for evasion over speed, and began tacking in a zigzag pattern. Meanwhile, the Saluda was nearing the end of that hypotenuse and, not far behind the Hesperus, was just turning to charge after her directly, now presenting nearly her full broadside to the shore batteries. Was Robert so consumed in pursuing the Hesperus that he ignored other dangers? Was he so enraged at Appleby that other costs were meaningless to him? He had just turned the Saluda into line directly behind the Hesperus and was preparing what would have been a deadly salvo with the gun on the forward deck, when there was a tremendous crash and his ship shuddered and wallowed to the side. Wood and splinters flew into the air as the sidewheel of the Saluda exploded into a thousand fragments. Injured sailors screamed. The Harmony, steaming directly at the Saluda, had fired its cannon right into the sidewheel and destroyed it with one salvo. The Saluda's forward momentum kept it going, but it began to skew in its track. "Never mind that!" screamed Robert. "Fire on that sail!" The crew struggled to their feet, aimed the thirty-two pounder at the Hesperus which was now not far from them at all, and fired. Several things happened at once. The sound of the roaring deck gun of the Saluda was echoed half an instant later by the roar of three cannon from Seaward. All three had aimed for the scar made by the destruction of the sidewheel, the weakened spot in her armor. And all three found their mark. Another half an instant after the shell left the Saluda's cannon, the three Seaward shells converged on her amidships. There was a tremendous crash, then a halo of steam flashed out around her as her boilers were cracked open, and then...her magazine blew. A blinding flash, and the entire ship blew apart, gunpowder stores ignited all at once. There was not enough left to sink as a million bits and pieces of the ship, of her men, flew into the air. But the shell....the shell had left her forward gun. And in the same instant that the Saluda exploded, her last shell found its way to the bow of the Hesperus. It ripped into the hull just above the water line with tremendous force. The vessel broke in two, the stern half flipping up and throwing Appleby and Troy into the water. The bow half exploded from the shock of the impact and shattered completely. Lost and dazed for a moment, aching all over, the cold sea water brought Appleby back to his senses just enough to remind him to stay afloat. "Troy!" he cried, "Priam!" "Here!" he heard a voice gasp, and a few yards from him was Troy, his face a mask of pain but grasping a floating plank. A few yards from them was the overturned stern of the Hesperus. There was a loud glugging sound, a hiss, and what was left of the vessel slipped beneath the waves. "Priam!" shouted Appleby, looking desperately around. From behind them and to the side, they could hear the churning of the Harmony as it reversed screws, having come up to the wreckage as fast as it could. "Find Papa!" cried Troy, as loudly as he could. Four men on the Harmony and two in water scanned the water, chunky with wreckage, and then Cassius pointed not far off the bow and said "There!" It was on Appleby's side. Overcoming his pain, he swam in that direction. Bobbing on his stomach, back up, was Priam. "Hang on, old man," Appleby gasped, "We will get you out." The Harmony bobbed up to them then, with Troy on the other side. Bacchus and Pan reached down to pull Troy out, while Hector and Cassius reached for Priam on their side. Appleby turned Priam over in the water....and screamed. Protruding from the muscular chest was a splinter of wood an inch wide and three inches long above the wound; no telling how far it went in. Struggling in his pain to stay afloat but to push Priam up, Appleby did what he could to assist Hector and Cassius as they drew Priam up out of the water. By the time Appleby clambered aboard, Priam was stretched out on the deck A pool of watery red spread on the deck beneath him. Troy and Hector were beside him, slapping his face, weeping, rubbing his skin, making inarticulate sounds. It was no use. Priam was gone. Stunned, Pan and Bacchus turned the Harmony toward the shore. Appleby sat as if poleaxed on the deck, trying to catch his breath. He was sure he had broken a rib, so great was the pain in his side. As the Harmony chugged up, slowly, to the pier, the people of Seaward came running out from behind the stone walls in front of the cannon. As they approached, they saw the terrible sight on the deck. Grief. Black grief. Inconsolable grief. Cass wailed and fainted away. Helen threw herself on her father's body as it lay on the deck, staining herself with his blood that still leaked out. Some roared, some wept, some simply sat in silence. After some bleak minutes, a few rose up and seized carbines and began blasting every floating thing they could see on the waters in their rage. Had there been any survivors of the Saluda, they would have been shot in the furious volley rained down upon the flotsam of war. Then even fury exhausted itself, and everyone fell to the ground or to their knees, lost in sorrow. The three from Ashley Plantation were most helpful then. Of course they grieved for the loss of Priam, but were less affected by it enough so that they could help the people of Seaward to carry on. Helping people to their feet, offering gentle orders and directions, Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond began moving people toward what must be done. Priam's body was wrapped in a canvas from the Harmony and carried back up the embankment to be prepared for burial. Cannon and firearms were put back in order, for especially now vigilance must be redoubled. The people of Seaward moved, some as if in a dream and some in pain, toward the next moment, and then the next, and then the next. Appleby and Troy had indeed broken some ribs, dark bruises spreading over their sides. These were bound up and rest was ordered. The women helped Cass to wash Priam's body and lovingly prepare it for burial. Bundit and Cassius, barely able to see their work through their tears, dug a grave in the cemetery even as they tried to keep a lookout. That night a sorrowful procession took Priam up the hill. Samuel and Hammond graciously offered to stand watch at the pier, while Aaron scanned the sea from the cemetery as Priam was put in the earth but a few yards away. The people of Seaward sat around a bonfire, near the earth freshly mounded over the grave, and talked. Appleby grieved to the depths of his soul, remember Priam's strengths and kindness.....remembering that here was the first sharing of intimacy between them. And, in a small, deep corner of his thoughts, Appleby grieved for Robert as well. For the beautiful boy that used to be, for the spirit that might have been so fruitful had it not been ruined by the poisons of slavery and race. The night deepened. There were words and songs offered up....they rose into the gentle summer breezes of August, floated out over Seaward, and dissolved in the air.